


It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

by Natalya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Coming in from the cold fic, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Snow, Steve Rogers Feels, mentions of other Avengers, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalya/pseuds/Natalya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve and Steve is feeling exhausted and bleak.  The search for the Winter Soldier has been a failure and they've called it off for a few weeks to regroup and celebrate the season. He falls back on an old tradition to take him into Christmas morning but winds up with far, far more than he expected or could ever have hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

The sky was clear, stars studding the dark velvet of the sky. The city was covered in a thick blanket of heavy white snow, the air icy and harsh. In the streets there were Christmas lights, cars and cabs on the road, making their way through the grey slush that had once been pristine snow. Steve stood at the window of his apartment in the tower where he’d been persuaded to move after the events in DC. Not that he’d been there much. The place still looked barely lived in. He’d spent most of the months between then and the present out following each and every lead he could, Sam at his side the whole way. But Christmas had rolled around and despite the fact that didn’t mean a damn thing to him, he knew that Sam had a family, had friends who would miss him, and he needed a break. Both he and Steve were stretched to breaking point and further, Steve knowing damn well that he had been pushing himself too hard, too far, too constantly. 

A soft sigh escaped him, and he felt the heavy melancholy that had been weighing him down feeling as though it was a lead weight in his chest, something that was dragging him under, threatening to drown him. He looked away from the scene outside to the apartment. The furniture there was minimal, just what was necessary, along with a tree, wound round with lights that Natasha had put up a few days before, had stayed with Clint and Sam for the evening with Steve, chatting, just being there, lightening the load for a while, reminding him that he had friends still, that there were people who cared for him and cared deeply. 

It had helped. 

But now, alone on Christmas Eve that dark feeling was back with a vengeance and he swallowed hard, feeling almost as though the walls of the empty apartment were pressing in on him. A glance at the clock told him it was time to leave, to go out into the cold and the darkness. He pulled on his jacket over his thick jumper, pulled on a beanie and a scarf, a thick pair of gloves and his boots. Without hesitating he left, heading down into the streets. 

He kept his head down, walking quickly, feet taking him where he wanted to go, along streets trodden so very many times, so very many decades before. He crossed the bridge, pausing as he did, staring down into the dark, swirling waters below, strong and constant. It reminded him of the Potomac, of letting himself sink, letting himself fall, reminded him of the light fading above him, blocked by a dark figure, a gleaming hand reaching for him. He drew in a sharp breath and pushed the thoughts aside, pressing onwards. 

Finally he reached his destination. The church that he and Bucky had attended in their lives Before as he called it. Before the horror, before the ice, before the war. The stained glass windows were warm glows of light, the great front doors flung wide, a steady stream of the devout entering in time for midnight mass. It was his custom, something that tied him to the past, something that reminded him of where he had come from, of who he was. 

Inside he found himself a seat on one of the wooden pews, settling in, surrounded by humanity, just another one of the crowd. The inside of the church was warm, candles lit, a safe haven against the outside world. The doors closed, and the service started, and he began to feel himself drifting into the familiar, the liturgy washing over him along with the scent of the incense and the unmistakable aroma of the church itself. He felt his mind drifting back over the years, remembering Christmases long gone, with the Commandos, with Bucky, trying not to think of the last two lonely years since he’d been brought back from the ice. 

The service finished with old carols and he felt a sense of peace come over him as his voice joined the others raised in song. After it was all over he waited as the rest of the congregation left, heading into a dark corner of the church, sitting down beside the prayer candles, lighting one himself, sending up a soft, short prayer. He bowed his head, letting himself take some time. He wasn’t the last out, there were still a few others, sat silently in the pews, heads bowed in prayer when he left. The street outside the church was empty, the cold a shock as it touched the bare skin of his face and he huffed out a breath that rose in a crystal cloud towards the dark sky. He heard the sound of booted feet crunching on the snow behind him, the sound of a softly sung carol, the last one that had been sung in the church. 

“It came upon the midnight clear, that glorious song of old…” 

He froze in place, feeling as though the breath had been sucked from his lungs. He knew...knew that voice, knew that tone, knew the sound of those footsteps. He knew it all with a certainty that was a part of him, a part of his heart and soul, graven deep into his bones until it was less knowledge and more deep seated instinct. He turned, hardly daring to wonder, to hope, to… but there. 

He was there. 

Standing in the warm pool of light from one of the windows, a dark figure, clad in black from head to foot, face pale, but blue eyes soft and warm. A slight smile just curled the corners of his lips and he regarded Steve, head slightly on one side. “Steve?” 

Steve unfroze. 

“Buck?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s voice was soft but steady, and Steve could feel himself shaking, watched the way that Bucky held himself, saw the slight uncertainty in his expression. 

“I’ve been searching for you… I couldn’t… I was always one step behind you…” He instinctively reached out, withdrew his hand, unsure, desperately afraid of pushing Bucky away, of breaking the fragile moment between them, of sending him running once more. 

“I know.” Bucky took a pace forward, closing the distance between them until they were only a foot or so apart, close enough to touch, close enough that Steve could see the dark circles beneath Bucky’s eyes, could see the shadows hidden in the depths of the blue grey. “And I’m sorry… Stevie… but I needed to get my head straight, I needed to… there were things that I needed to do. I couldn’t risk being a danger to you.” He laughed, a self-deprecating sound and shook his head slightly. “At the beginning, that’s all I knew. That you were my mission, that you had always been my damn mission and that it was to protect you, and I wasn’t… I wasn’t anywhere close to safe to be around. So I kept moving, kept finding more of myself and I’m not gonna lie, Stevie, it was shit and I’m still not… still not right, but I’m safe and I needed to…” He broke off and Steve swallowed hard. 

“You needed…” 

“I needed to find you.” Replied Bucky quietly. “I took down those Hydra bases, knew you were tracking me but… now? I tracked you back here, and… I didn’t think you’d miss mass at the old place, not tonight…” 

Steve could see the gleam of tears in Bucky’s eyes, could feel a lump in his own throat, the heat of a tear spilling down his own cheek. He watched as Bucky raised one gloved hand, lightly brushing it away, instinctively leaned into the touch. “I missed you so damn much...Buck you don’t know…” 

“I got an idea. Once I knew… once I remember, fuck, Stevie I’ve missed you too, but… I’m back, here and now if… if you want me… if you want me to stay.” And there it was again, that uncertainty that made Steve ache. 

“Never not gonna want you… never not gonna want you to stay…” He replied, slowly closing a little more space between them, drawn into Bucky’s orbit as he always had been. 

“I remember you know…” Bucky tilted his head slightly, giving Steve a measuring look. “I remember about us.” 

Steve felt his breath stutter to a half in his chest, heart thrumming against his ribs, beating hard and fast until he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. “You do?” He managed to choke out. He felt Bucky’s hand on his chest, taking one of his, pressing it against the soft black wool of Bucky’s coat. 

“Whoa, hey, c’mon, breathe with me, pal…” And there was a soft huff of laughter behind the words that made Steve let out a gasp of laughter of his own as he forced himself to gulp in the cold air, burning down into his lungs. As he got himself under control he looked at Bucky again, shifted his hand from Bucky’s chest to cover the hand pressed against his own. “You okay?” 

“Yeah… yeah m’fine I just… I missed you so damn much it was like…” He broke off, not knowing how to continue, not knowing whether admitting to the depth of his feeling would change anything, whether Bucky still, after everything he’d been through…

His thought train was broken off as Bucky spoke. “I still love you, punk. Only stopped because I didn’t even know who the hell I was. But believe me… I love you. One of us had to say it.” 

Steve felt a smile come to his lips as he looked at Bucky. “I just… I didn’t want to push you away. I don’t think I could bear losing you again. I would rather have had you just back around, without anything more than lose you altogether.” 

He screwed up his courage, pushing away the sensation that it was unreal, that he was just dreaming, closed the last of the space between them, pulling Bucky into his arms, solid and real, holding him tight, feeling Bucky’s arms go round him, holding him close, Bucky’s face pressed against the side of his neck. He buried his face in the curve of Bucky’s neck, breathing in the scent of his skin, still so familiar, still so very familiar. “Fuck… fuck… I miss you… I love you…” 

Bucky didn’t speak, just held him tighter, pressing a kiss to Steve’s neck, the feel of his lips something that Steve had craved, had dreamed about. He could feel Bucky’s breathing in line with his own, could feel the pulse in Bucky’s throat, so very there, so very alive. 

Alive. 

Alive and his. 

Just as he was Bucky’s just as he always had been Bucky’s, even before he knew it himself. 

He didn’t hesitate, simply let Bucky pull him into a kiss, sweet and chaste, filled with a wealth of emotion and meaning that threatened to overwhelm him until they slowly broke apart. Bucky was smiling as they did. “I love you too…” 

“Do you… where have you been staying? I mean… if you want to come home then… I have a place…” 

“I’ve been staying in a hotel. I figured Hydra owed me a hell of a lot of back pay, hazard pay and various other things so, I siphoned off their funds while everything was still up shit creek. And I know… you live in that Stark monstrosity… But yes. Home, home is wherever you are and that’s where I wanna go.” Replied Bucky, linking his hand with Steve’s squeezing tight. 

Steve squeezed his hand back and nodded. “Then let’s go home.” He said softly. 

They walked slowly, talking all the way back to the tower, walking close, constantly in contact as though neither could quite believe they were there, as though they needed that reminder, that physical connection between them, to believe that it was real. When they reached the tower Steve led Bucky into the elevator. “Good evening Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes.” 

Bucky raised one eyebrow. “AI? He really does take after Howard doesn’t he?” 

“Yes, although don’t say that in front of him.” 

“Sir does not particularly enjoy being reminded of his likeness to his father.” Jarvis’ tone was dry and Bucky chuckled. 

“Point taken. You got the advantage of me though…” 

“Jarvis. A pleasure to meet you. Mr Stark showed me your likeness. I have been programmed to accept you into the tower as long as you are accompanied by Captain Rogers or certain others who have been given those permissions.” 

“And if I had attempted to enter without?” 

“Then I am afraid measures would have been taken and you would have been detained.” 

“What measures?” Steve frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, relaxing only slightly when Bucky bumped their shoulders together. 

“Don’t get like that, Steve. Only sensible. You got no sense when it comes to me, but luckily other people around ya do so just take it.” 

The elevator started moving as Steve relaxed with a short laugh, seeing the sense, the truth in Bucky’s words. They made the rest of the ride in silence, but one that was comfortable, hanging between them, not needing words to fill the space. 

Steve led them through the corridor to his apartment, going through into the room beyond. He paused to take off his scarf, gloves, hat and boots, hanging them in the hallway, Bucky doing the same, leaving his boots in a heap with Steve’s. He watched as Bucky moved into the space, instinctively looking around, obviously mentally mapping the place out, checking the entrances, the exits, vantage points that he needed. 

Bucky turned to look at him, a frown on his face, reaching out, right hand cupping Steve’s jaw, thumb running over his cheekbone. “Shit… Stevie you’ve had a fucking hard time…” 

And that was it. 

Within seconds Bucky had picked up on, knew what those who surrounded him had barely scratched the surface of, hadn’t seen, or hadn’t wanted to notice. Knew just how hard it was, how hard it had been, how much he was struggling. He let out a slow breath that he hadn’t realised he had been holding. “It hasn’t been easy but… Buck… nothin’ nothin’ compared to what you’ve been through.” 

Bucky gave him a slightly wry smile and shrugged. “Not the point.” He replied, letting Steve lead him through into the apartment. “But we got time now, Stevie… time for both of us…” He stated, pulling Steve into another soft kiss. 

They went through into the kitchen and Steve made cocoa, hot, thick, spicy, and sweet before they padded over to the couch, turned the lights down low so that they didn’t drown out the gentle twinkling of the Christmas tree lights. While Steve had been making the cocoa, Bucky had explored the apartment, had found a record and put it on softly, old jazz filling the apartment. They settled down on the couch together, a comfortable tangle of limbs, warm and safe as they drifted into the small hours of Christmas morning. 

Steve swallowed, looking at Bucky, studying him, memorising him all over again. His hair was still longer, half caught up in a messy bun, some escaping to hang around his face. He was cleanshaven, a little smile on his lips, his eyes filled with warmth alongside the shadows. He looked good. Tired, but healthy. His body was solid muscle beneath his clothes, pressed up against Steve’s, warm and real, and the light gleamed from his left hand in a soft reflection. Bucky caught his gaze and gave him a slightly tight smile, twitching the sleeve of his sweater further down over his hand. Steve caught it and shook his head. “Doesn’t bother me, Buck. Just… just memorising you s’all.” 

“You’re one of a kind, y’know that?” And there was an undercurrent of emotion in Bucky’s voice that Steve couldn’t miss. 

“Nah. Just in love with you.” 

“Sap.” Retorted Bucky with a laugh, taking a sip of cocoa, relaxing against Steve. 

“Yeah.” Replied Steve comfortably, feeling himself falling back into the familiar feel of being with Bucky, feeling an overwhelming sensation of coming home, of truly coming home in a way that he hadn’t felt since the forties. 

“Merry Christmas by the way.” Murmured Bucky with a slight smile. 

Steve felt himself smile in answer, laughing softly. “Yeah, Merry Christmas.” He replied. 

They lapsed once again into a comfortable silence, just drinking their cocoa, breathing together, together, together again. Steve knew, knew that they would have a lot of things to deal with together, but they were there, he had Bucky back, a more shadowed Bucky but then he too had changed, yet still they fit together. Those things could all wait. In those moments, in the warmth of the apartment, the music wending around them, they had everything that they needed. They were in love, together, and Bucky had come home.


End file.
